


Year of the cough drop

by feralis



Category: Smallville, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, I have a cold :(, It’s pre-Clex but they’re figuring a few things out, Probably ooc, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 06:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralis/pseuds/feralis
Summary: The fic where even though Lex Luthor isn’t a poor retail worker who can’t afford to drop shifts he’s still a stubborn idiot who goes to work with a bad cold, and Superman has to put a stop to it.AKA: I’m mildly sick so I’m writing this because misery loves company





	Year of the cough drop

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah this is straight up a first draft, definitely not my attempt at high quality, but in my defense I’m in very mild discomfort and sometimes have to cough. Please forgive me *puppy dog eyes*

Superman scowled and slowly floated down to the Balcony of Evil (as he’d dubbed it), their theatrics of hero and villain in full swing. 

“Luth—“ He paused his generic tirade when the other man—already squinting against the daylight and cold (presumably? Clark couldn’t really feel the chill) air—sneezed. 

“Uh,” He said. 

Lex glared. 

“Bless you?”

Lex repeated himself, until finally it seemed even he felt the awkward silence and said, “Only a moron like you—“ before devolving into a coughing fit. Clark tuned in his hearing and… yep, that was some major rattling. Thermal vision and… aw geez, why the hell was this guy outside?

Clark held his forehead in his hand, more in imitation of everyone else than preventing an actual headache. “Lex! You’re sick, aren’t you!”

The man in question had, unfortunately, regained the ability to speak. “I’m not sick! How would a Kryptonian like you even know what that looks like?!”

Wait, was he _ sure _he couldn’t get headaches? Because he felt like he deserved one. 

Clark sputtered, “yeah, no, Lex, I’ve been around other people before. I know what a common cold looks like.” Lex tried to protest again but Clark kept speaking, “and you’re at work? Seriously? The so-called smartest man in the world should know that that’s only going to make it worse!”

“Am I seriously being lectured about this?” Asked Lex, in what was, in hindsight, clearly the voice of a man pretending not to have a sinus infection. 

“Yeah, you are. Go home.”

Lex crossed his arms. “I’m not going to abandon LexCorp just because some pompous alien-“ coughing fit “-wanted to bully me out of my own office.”

“I know those board members take more time off than you do! By months!” Clark said, graciously ignoring the rest of Lex’s rant. “And no, going to the Bahamas to build _ another _ robot on _ another _ secret base doesn’t count! Working a second job is still working.”

Lex brightened. “Ah-ha! You’re clearly trying to manipulate me into not attacking you, I’ve got your card, Superman!”

Wow, the non-existent headache just wouldn’t quit. Clark rolled his eyes. “That’s… ugh, that’s stupid.” Pausing, he added, “anyways, if I wanted you incapacitated, wouldn’t I be trying to make your cold worse? Just… I don’t know, work on your evil blueprints. While in bed. Resting.”

“Ooh, eager to get me into bed, aren’t you? And they say you’re such a Boy Scout.” That was a deflection if Clark ever heard one. Was this man allergic to emotions or something?

Clark just raised his eyebrows in his best “incredulous but not surprised” stare. But Lex Luthor wasn’t an easy man to convince, especially when he’d already vocalized dissent, so Clark was mentally preparing himself for a stubborn stare down of the century. And it would have been, too, if Lex hadn’t doubled over coughing again, this time with him looking up disorientedly and a hand on his head. Ouch, Clark so didn’t envy the man right now. 

Lex scowled again but said “Fine.” Knowing that this was really the best he could hope for Clark sped home to grab some cold supplies and—ah shoot, of course he didn’t keep any, but maybe back at Smallville?—grabbed them from his parents’ home and was back at the Balcony of Evil in five seconds flat. 

Lex, as usual, looked annoyed. 

Clark thrust them out to him. 

“Poison, Superman? Really?”

“I’m not _ that _ cliché. It’s cold medicine. Go home, Lex.”

The businessman suddenly looked small, staring at a point left of Clark’s shoulder. 

“Why?”

Ah, Clark knew he’d ask that at some point. The man was curiouser than a cat, unfortunately. 

“Because…” Problem was, he really didn’t have a good answer. Anything too emotional or generic would set off alarm bells, and Lex would hate to hear something fake and PR-worthy. Answers, not platitudes. “You looked miserable and standing here? Fighting me? Was only going to make it worse.”

Lex stared some more. “But _ why? _”

And Clark… still didn’t know how to answer, the feeling in his chest fleeting and fleeing. Or maybe he just didn’t want to put that strange emotion into words. So he didn’t answer and Lex didn’t look surprised, before walking forward and pompously announcing he didn’t want to see Superman on his property again. So, he mentally translated, a “see you later, ta-ta!” 

And thus, leaving Lex on the penthouse balcony with a bad cold, Clark took off to stop the world from ending or maybe go get some takeout. 

Lex Luthor watched him until he was gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Who nose what will happen next? Will Lex Luthor’s cold heart find warmth? Or will the fever of love be fought off! Who knows?


End file.
